Beacon
by RippedIntoPieces
Summary: Lestrade's fortunes don't work out, and then luckily they do.


It seems wrong to say that Lestrade hadn't ever thought of Molly as anything more than Molly the girl who works in the morgue, but it was true. When Molly had taken off her coat and revealed the dress underneath Lestrade was speechless because Molly was beautiful and she must have been beautiful beforehand, before tonight, and how had he not noticed this? He'd always been aware of her when she visited the morgue, and knew her as a woman with a sad face who always glanced at Sherlock hoping to gain his attention. Lestrade had always felt sorry for her, she was not the first woman that Sherlock had rebuffed with his cold demeanour and he doubted she'd be the last but the fact that he knew Molly made it worse.

She was a lovely woman, and on cases where Sherlock wasn't involved, she was brighter and funnier, she made him tea always a bit too sweet which she knew he secretly liked and they had as much camaraderie as you can over a dead body. It was nice to see her smiling, as Lestrade saw her mostly in Sherlock's presence and ever since Sherlock had returned from his meeting with Moriarty the bomber she'd been sadder, she hadn't smiled so brightly and she hadn't made so many jokes, instead she looked exhausted and pale. Lestrade didn't know the full story but he was vaguely aware that her boyfriend had actually turned out to be Moriarty playing with her feelings all along. Lestrade hadn't spoken to her about it as he was instead focusing on repairing the crumbling bridge between himself and his wife; there wasn't time for Molly with her cups of tea and jokes about dead bodies bad enough to be funny.

At the Christmas party, before Sherlock had humiliated her, he'd found it difficult to keep his eyes off and it just felt like a revelation that this woman who he spoke to rather often, both on and off duty had always been like this, always looked like this. Maybe he hadn't noticed she was beautiful or maybe he thought that because of her interest in Sherlock that she was unattainable because how could he compare to a genius? Sherlock was cruel, but he was a bright star who brought the attention of everyone towards him and blinded them with his brilliance. Molly knew he was cruel, said it herself after his comments about his gift and yet still, Lestrade knew that it wouldn't work between them.

The evening petered out and when Sherlock left, Lestrade took it as his sign to leave as well. Molly smiled nervously at him, and he grinned back,

"Have a good Christmas," He said quietly and she smiled at him fondly,

"You too. Good luck with your wife, I hope it all works out," She said and he nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. Sherlock was never wrong, or at least hardly ever and his wife was not very good at fidelity; he was dreading going down to Dorset and he thought about blowing it off and asking Molly if she wanted to grab a drink. He wondered about her plans, as she'd shared nothing in their chats, she often didn't; she told stories about the corpses or they talked about Lestrade's work, or the tele, or the weather. Molly was secretive, or at least she didn't want everyone knowing about her life and Lestrade looked at her wavering smile and shook off thoughts of sitting with her sipping wine, knowing she preferred red to white and instead grabbed his coat and headed off down the stairs and out the front door.

After Christmas, there's a relatively simple murder case to solve and this warrants a trip to the morgue in the late hours of the night. Molly is there, looking tired and care-worn but she says hello in a bright voice and smiles brightly in Lestrade's direction. They discuss the victim and Lestrade takes notes, discusses the post-mortem and then it's time for him to leave and he finds he doesn't want to. Christmas had been a nightmare of shouting at his wife and leaving early, battling Christmas traffic and arriving home to pour himself a large whisky to drown his sorrows. Molly even after the Christmas break looked no happier and Lestrade knew this time he had to ask her what he had intended to do in the first place,

"Are you finished for the night?" He asks her and she looks up, surprised,

"Yes, I am," She replies nervously and Lestrade begins to wonder if this is the best idea,

"Would you like to get a drink? I dunno, go to the pub or have a cup of tea?" He asks and Molly's face is wary,

"Why?" She says and Lestrade feels his chest ache a little knowing that Molly won't even trust his motives, believing that there must always be some humiliation to him wanting to spend time with her,

"Because Molly, I had a shitty Christmas, and you don't look like you had much of a better one. I could do with a friend, and I've had enough of looking at dead bodies and crime scenes. I'd like a drink, and it's better to have one with someone than to have it alone," He says and Molly's mouth is an 'o' shape in surprise,

"O-oh, right, sorry... I was...well, I don't know; that would be nice Greg," She says smiling and she shrugs off her lab-coat and hangs it up in a cupboard at the back of the room, "Is there anywhere in particular you have in mind?"

They end up in a pub around the corner and Molly orders herself a large glass of wine and Lestrade gets a pint. They sit in the corner of the pub, a little awkward as they sit in silence for a minute or so, sipping their drinks and glancing at one another when the other wasn't looking.

"So things didn't go so well with your wife then?" Molly asks quietly and Lestrade shakes his head,

"Sherlock was bloody right, as I knew he'd be. It was the P.E. teacher, which is bloody awful because we've got kids, and she'd – with people from her children's school –" Lestrade is struck dumb in anger and he doesn't know what to say, "I thought we were going to work it out but then she just shatters it all, with a bloody P.E. teacher of all people! I don't know what we're going to tell the girls, I just…I'm half waiting for her to just push me out, tell me I'm a bad father and let him take my place. She was always complaining, you know about me being late home and I try my hardest, I do, but for her it was never good enough," Lestrade huffs and Molly looks at him pityingly,

"You do a good job," She reassures him, "She should know that, and it shouldn't have come to this. I'm sorry Greg," She says kindly and Lestrade smiles bitterly,

"Ohh," Lestrade sighs, "Don't be, God knows it's better I found out now than later down the line when I walk in on them or something," "I just hate it that the bastard got it right again, and he just reveals these things to show he's smart, doesn't give a damn about anyone else," Lestrade says angrily through clenched teeth, "I mean to tell everyone that my wife is having an affair, and then to say John's sister's off the wagon and then what he said to you, he's a bastard and he knows it, worse, he loves it. The man drives me insane and sometimes I wish I didn't know him, but I know I need him to solve the crimes that happen, otherwise our success rate wouldn't be nearly so good and we would have far more criminals on the street!" Lestrade hangs his head and sighs heavily, "Meeting Sherlock Holmes was simultaneously one of the best and worse things to happen to me," He said resignedly and looked up at Molly, realising all this time he'd been badmouthing the man she was practically in love with, "Oh, God, sorry I mean I know you like him, I didn't mean any off-"

"-He is an arse," Molly says agreeing in a brittle voice, He is and I know it. I mean he was brought up well, you've met his brother, he just thinks that because he's smart he can stomp on everyone's feelings without the least bit of sensitivity,"

"Molly, what he said to you, I hope you didn't take that to heart," Lestrade begins and Molly waves him off,

"Oh, no...I'm quite used to it, he did it with Jim and he'll do it again he always does...I just...I wish I didn't care so much you know? He came into the morgue the other day to look at a body with his brother; some woman he knew, and he asked to see the whole body...with the sheet off..." Molly says awkwardly and Lestrade nods in understanding, "Anyway, he didn't recognise her by the face, but he did by her...measurements... and...I just, he claims to be so aloof all the time but he clearly knew that woman and I know it's awful to speak ill of the dead, but really, what makes her better than me? I'm smart, I work in a hospital and I've had boyfriends other than Jim, I know men like me! I know I'm not ugly, so why doesn't he want me?" Molly slumps and takes a big gulp of wine before shaking her head, "Oh...god, I'm sorry, sorry. You just broke up with your wife and I'm complaining about Sherlock not wanting me which is completely besides the point. You wanted a good night out, and I'm ruining it,"

"You're not," Lestrade says to her, "I promise you." He pauses, "Sherlock's an idiot for not wanting you; you're smart, and funny and...beautiful," He coughs a little and looks at the table, "I just don't think Sherlock sees that, in anyone. That woman, she probably wasn't what you think; they hardly ever are in Sherlock's case. Sherlock the exception to the rule, and you shouldn't worry about whether or not he wants you, because if he doesn't he's an idiot,"

"Greg you don't have to just say these things you know," Molly says and Lestrade shakes his head vehemently,

"No! I wouldn't do that, that's not fair. You are Molly. God knows, you make me laugh more than my wife has done in years, you're beautiful even if Sherlock made you think you weren't and above it all, you're a good person. I admire you for that, and I wish you'd see it yourself," Lestrade says and he takes a sip of his pint. Molly looks at him, wide eyed and still waiting for this to become a joke, surprised when it doesn't as the seconds pass by and still Lestrade doesn't look up and laugh at her,

"Thank you," She says quietly and she places a hand on his gently,

"No need to thank me, just believe me," He says simply and for the first time Molly smiles fully, there is no hidden sadness in her face and she laughs a little,

"I'll do my best," She says and she sits back but doesn't move her hand from his,

The rest of the night goes well enough and the gentle kiss on the lips Lestrade receives when he drops her off home to a darkened flat and a hungry cat isn't definite but it promises of something good and Lestrade needs that in his life, he needs a fresh beacon for the new year that promising to keep burning away in the dark.


End file.
